Awakening
by wahinetoa
Summary: SANA: Alt.verse on TftR. Sawyer discovers a way to wake Lucy from a coma, and realizes he's awaking to who he truly loves.
1. Chapter 1

**AWAKENING  
posted: MRU 16Dec2007**

**Dedicated to: **Hoelli aka wifey, Aloha aka pacifica and the lovely LL, for inspiring and conspiring to finally post this story. I thank heaven for sisters like you three.

**Rated: 17years, if you're a prude like me.**  
A little innuendo, a little scratch and tickle. Nothing rude whatsoever.  
Hot smoke - and steamy mirrors.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, but share custody with Sanateers for Muchacha and the Cowboy. ABC owns.

**History:**_ TftR alt version. Henry took Mike with him, back to Walter. Ana was shot, but not mortally wounded. Libby was, and sadly died. Though Jack has done all he can to bring Ana awake, her mind won't let her. He thinks its shock. Frustrated and guilt ridden, fighting his own feelings where this lass is concerned, he finally snaps knowing the longer she won't wake up, the more danger she's in - he tries to shake her out of it, threatening enough, that Sayid and Locke had to drag him out. For days he's not been allowed back in, and he's made a deal with Sayid that he'll give them everything they need, if he can talk with Jack about seeing Ana Lucia again._

_Praying he hasn't wrecked his only chance to make it right with either of them._

_Continued..._

* * *

"Get out."

"Can't do that, Doc."

Jack placed the medical equipment back into the rucksack, and closed it irritably. He took a moment to compose himself, still not looking at the irritating Southern conman, who had managed to get past the new hatch security, to pay him a visit.  
Or more unquestionably, to pay their last infirmary patient a visit.

"Why the hell not, Sawyer?"

Sawyer flailed, at Jacks question. Sawyer didn't want to reveal how important this was to him. More so than he wanted to admit. And truth was; after they'd dragged his sorry a outta the hatch for trying to wake her, by screaming and shaking her from the bed, scared outta his damned mind she was gonna follow poor Libby into the grave right next to hers - he desperately needed to get back to that room. To her. He didn't know why, but coming on bended knee to even Jack, guns in hand, was worth it.

"You need me."

"Not in this state," Jack vehemently disagreed. "Drinking, starting fights.. more than usual. What good are you to me, to the war that's comin', to.. to..."

Every bit of defeat was in the fall of Jacks shoulders, the knowledge he couldn't make it right for Ana, or Libby or for the countless others that depended on him to save them, without needing someone to share that responsibility with. Sawyer realized then, that he'd rightfully chosen Ana to be that person. The respect both Jack and Sayid had for Lucy, somehow grated on his nerves as it did, make him wanna kiss the man.

Jack shook his head, refusing whatever Sawyer had in mind. "The rest of us, will handle this fine.."

Sawyer scoffed, feeling his indignation rise. "You got Henry-notHenry with Mike as a prisoner, Libby is dead, the others are frightened outta their wits, Sayids trying to run the army and..." Sawyer swallows the lump forming in his throat, can't seem to manage it and ends it in silence. Ana was a fire of determination, prowess and expertise that; though most were loathed to admit too, desperately needed now, more than ever.

Both men are stony quiet, for a moment, listening to their hearts. Jack is the first to give a little, knowing she'd approve.

"With this battle coming up, you can't have your head in two places." Jacks hesitates, eyebrow raising. "You've been that way ever since we told you about Ana on the beach, and again when she was shot." Jack breathes deeply, slowly, as if trying to erase the horrifying images that come with it.

"Gd knows, I know that feeling. But your head in two places, distracted like this?--" It's enough of a concession for Sawyer to take, hope for. "Or three places, if it's where I think it's always been."

"Funny..." The southerner snarked, before wanting to take it back. Blood spilt on the linoleum, and Ana fighting for her life, meant nothing here would be funny, or safe, or home again. His heart plummeted to his gut. "I mean..."

The Doctor turned around, suddenly. He crossed his arms over his chest and looking right at Sawyer, spoke.

"Why are you here, Sawyer? The guns? Her gun?"

"Me and Muchacha." Sawyer began, then hesitated, judging the moment to say more. He watched Jacks eyes, carefully, knowing that this man loved Lucy too. Knowing if the Doc wanted too, he'd make damn sure the conman would never get ten feet of Rambina, while they were on the same island. No conning for this.. he had to be straight with Jack. Or loose more than he was willing too.

"We. " His voice and resolve broke. Wasn't the time to let this secret go, not while there was too much death in the air, still. "I feel responsible, Jack. I wanna put it right. Help Muchacha get back.."

Jack remained quiet in that way he seemed to have about him. Seeing things, hearing things that Sawyer would rather anyone else know, but him. James could damn near see him fitting together the puzzle, before he could even lie his way out of it, Jack was speaking again.

"Make up your mind, James. You can't love Kate and Lucia - it's not fair on either."

"Fair got nothin' to do with it, Doc. " Denial was futile. Already given too much away, with the grief of possibly loosing Ana Lucia, the best hope he had left to bring her back - was being honest. "I won't hurt her.. couldn't. I just gotta try, Jack. I gotta make this right."

"It's not your fault," Kate interrupted, walking in on the conversation at the worst possible moment. "It's hardly Sawyers fault, Jack, considering Ana.."

"Who shook your tree, Peaches," Sawyer growled, disgusted at the insinuation she was getting at. "That's not what the man is sayin'."

Kate's voice, pitched higher in demand, made both men wince. "When are you such an expert on what Jack is saying, Sawyer?"

He tilted his head at her, disappointed that it took so long to fall on the sudden discovery. In his heart, he burned Kate's image from his mind, whatever was left of his heart - and fed the ashes to the waves pounding on the shore outside.

"Some things you grow out of." Jacks voice interrupted his thoughts, the two men sharing a look that Kate was left to decipher, and was coming up with translations she didn't much like.

Sawyer and Jack nodded in some mutual agreement, between both men. Before Kate could interfere or drag Sawyer back, Jack had grabbed her arm gently, but determinedly, steering her away from the path she had no place taking.

"He's gonna be taking care of Ana Lucia."

Her eyes narrow, confused. "Since when? He attacked..."

Jack bent his head low, meeting her eyes with sparkling clarity. "He was desperate to get her back, Kate. Shaking her from unconsciousness, wasn't the best idea, but a man will do almost anything when the woman he.."

"... feels guilty for, is dying?" Kate finished off, not really understanding or wanting to understand the nature of what Jack was truly saying.

For a moment, he looked very pained, both for her - and for himself - that the possibilities of finding love with someone who'd in the space of 3 days had chosen another - swept away his objection. Jack chose not to correct that statement, but rather let it slide. Truth was, he had done everything he could think of to heal Ana Lucia physically - there was no reason she shouldn't be awake, by now.

Only her mind, refused - and unless she wanted to come back.. had a good enough reason to want to come back.. her life was still in danger. The looks Jack had witnessed Sawyer giving Ana, the concern and depth of feeling (he'd not shown even when Kate stumbled into danger), threw him a curve.

Still aware of how Kate could read him, he felt himself closing off, distracting her with bitter reality than what was about to happen in the infirmary, while all the rest of the survivors were burying Libby.

"Hurleys going to need you, Kate. We'll be back in a few hours to take over the shift.. till then.. we'll let Sawyer say what he's gotta say - before it's too late."


	2. Chapter 2

Chptr2

It took a while for his eyes to get used to the cool dimness of the room, from the white hot brightness of the hatch, but when they did, he easily recognized her voluptuous form.

Heaven knew, he'd followed it (unwillingly at first) across the whole freakin' island - her; barking orders and swaggering off in a huff, that made him both frustrated at her demand, and grateful he was left with the view. But it was the last few days, that had brought to fruition a new kind of following her, that began when she'd branded him with some zealous tough loving. For the life of him, he couldn't see an end to it, even as he convinced himself what he was about to do; would.

Muchacha had taken his breath away, stolen it from his lungs - along with the need to get her back for thieving his gun, his wounded shoulder and his ego - laid flat, by Xena for-a-day. He stood there in the doorway, twisted up like a pretzel, trying to figure out why the hell he was here. Wanting. Praying. She'd wake, all challenge and fire.

Not the sleeping dragoness she'd been for three days too long. Too still. Too quiet. Like Libby had been.. And would ever be.

The ultimate fear, Ana Lucia could follow, drove Sawyer further inside the room, away from the doorway where he had been frozen for the last twenty minutes. On shaky legs he walked across the room and took the seat next to her, where she lay. He leaned forward on the chair, resting his elbows on his knees, better to peer down into her face with something akin to revelation filling his eyes. He may have excused it to Jack, to anyone who'd listen, it was guilt for her.. But he was fooling no one.

"C'mon, Muchacha," Sawyer whispered, firmly. "Don't give up on me - on life, yet."

For a second, he swore, her breathing changed a notch, before settling. Jack had explained that all comatose patients can hear when others are speaking, and can respond in some fashion, but Lucy was giving up. Not even Eko could make her more than twitch that lill' nose of hers. He didn't know why, then, at his voice, his nearness, that her eyelids fluttered as his breath skimmed over the half-cresent lashes as she slept.

It's funny, he thought, what memories assault you while not even meaning too. Like this blond in Manhattan, who he'd spent a rather interesting weekend with. She had a penchant for waking him from near unconsciousness, the day after, by peppering his toes, ankles, calfs and thighs with the kind of adoration that was probably outlawed somewhere.

"The skin is the largest and most sensitive organ of our bodies, and the feet can align the body in a way, that, given the right motivation, is the most pleasurable way of waking a man up."

She'd told him that weekend, then shown him, just how better a way waking could be. These conflicting memories and emotions collided, till the answer to the question he'd been asking himself, watching her slide further into this self-induced coma, rose to find him out.

For a long moment, he remained stock still. Then, instinctively, without really knowing it, he slowly, found himself, lift the corner of the blanket slightly away from her feet to reveal the soft mocha skin, of her ankles, the incredible arch of her foot, the power and sinewy strength of those thighs..

His chest constricted with the memory of them wrapped around his waist, digging into his buttocks, his back, urging, demanding - soothing. A cradle, that had rocked him to his very core.

The chair scrapped under him, as he fell to his knees, shifting down her body, to her legs. Very gently brushing his hand across the arch, from heel to toe, in one long languid sweep, and began a ritual to wake her. To bring her back to him.

His piercing gaze, slid up her frame watching her intently. Nothing. Far from defeated, his body on autopilot, Sawyer watched her face, for any sign, and repeated the action again. Somewhere inside her, the nerves were making new connections to her body, to life outside this darkness. As Sawyer continued with the other foot, without meaning too, those new connections included responding to him.

Her eyes fluttered wildly behind her eyes, just once, but once was all it took. Sawyers face broke into a beaming cocksure grin, as he realized the power in which he held her. If his voice could make her nose twitch, and his touch could make her eyes flutter wildly behind closed eyes, then he wondered what both would accomplish.

On his knees, he moved the thin blanket back further to reveal her calves, strong, beautiful pistons. With deliberate slowness, an ease of seduction he was more than familiar with, the pads of his fingers skimmed over her smooth flesh. Flesh, he'd moulded, insistantly, to his will and desires days before. Flesh, that bore his mark.

A prideful, boastful grin turned the corner of his mouth up, suddenly, at the memory. A moment, he allowed himself to believe, he could reclaim once she opened her eyes.

But the pleasure, began with him on his knees, just like this. His fingers danced over her ankle, slowly, wantonly, under the heel, the rise and fall, up again to brush the underside of her toes. One by one, each rosebud caressed, promised with more. He smiled, held back a chuckle, to find Muchacha was ticklish most on her little toes. Muscles twitched in order to escape his taunting. Discovery of her body, all new and yet familiar at the same time.

He was learning her, and in no real hurry, he began to speak, allowing his warm breath to add to the multi sensations Sawyer intended to evoke in her.

Words became touch, touch became breath -a caress all it's own in the dimness of the room. Ana Lucias breath became hitched as Sawyer brushed the inside of her ankle with his lips. Softest of all kisses.

And it was the perfect way to begin, his life story, with a rainy night in Georgia...

to be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

_Final Chapter_

"I learnt how to run; by running." his confession heavy in the cool air. "Started when I was 8," he chuckles humourlessly, "Didn't really stop. New life, new name.. none of it real. But the day before then.. I had a mom."

He allows himself to drift back to a time when he was happy, when there was someone who loved him for him. In his minds eye, he travels the painful distance of lonliness, regret and bitter revenge in an instant, because the memory of her was at the end of it.

"Mom took me to Georgia, during a rainstorm. We got caught in it, drops so heavy, they danced when they hit the pavement, skipping along the sidewalk like pebbles skimming over the surface of a pond.. splash splash." with each description, the pads of his fingers, pressing confidently into the taut flesh, landed firmly, insistent as a torrent falling over her skin like rain.

Her skin was a perfect canvas on which to paint, with touch and need, painful arousal as his breathing became hectic, air rapidly flooding his lungs and expelled as desire took over.

He comes from one memory of love, to the making of another. The distance of loss, faster now, because he's willing to make it count for something.

Sawyers lightly tanned skin was a soft, alluring contrast to the mocha deep of her skin. All through it, this delicious tactile adoration, he spoke of his life before this moment, this island, the heartache of guilt and sadness had taken over. A confession he'd give to no other.

"I felt the coldness of it against my skin, Lucy. Great jewels of liquid, seeping into my bones. The steady, constant thrum of awareness, the coolness that took the heat from the city, sweeping it clean and making it new. It left us drenched." his fingers pause in their play, a rare softness in his gaze flowing over Ana Lucia. "Somethin' like you did, the moment you fell on top of me."

He felt himself smile, fondly, at the memory. And with the memory, the rain storm ceased, the seductive strum of his long fingers, lighting softly over the upward incline of her leg, his digits drawn together as they skimmed, sweeping in long luxurious strokes, until the upward caress reached the sensitive underside of her knee.

A shuddering breath escaped her lips the moment his hand brushed boldly, the muscles jumped as he shadow-kissed the muscles he found there, responsive despite their mistress' slumber. He jerked a little, surprised by the wave of electrical heat that surged through him, as her knee bent, exposing the thigh and curvaceous hip. Under the flimsy threadbare sheet, she was completely naked. Gloriously so. He'd thought at least she would have been dressed in underwear, given Doc was hovering like a worried mother hen over her 24/7 since she got hurt. The thought of Doc, regardless of his always 'gentlemanly' code of conduct, near her while she was naked, shot his blood up. It took a few seconds to regain his composure, anger flaring wild and protective.

Then another thought, pressed through. She was responding for the first time in days, and it was to his touch, his voice. Hope flooded through.

He felt powerless and powerful all at once, a murmur rumbling from his chest, coaxing her to remember the warmth of his touch.

Sawyer allowed himself to draw closer, pressing the hard planes of his body against her softness, as much as he could, kneeling on the hard floor. "Life is waiting, Muchacha," he whispered against the shell of her ear. "Defy it, or me.. But I'm gonna make you feel what you're missin' if you do."

His hand moved in slow, tantalizing circles that evoked with aching care, every thing he said. Instead of the bold male possession, his touch glided along the sensitive underside of her thigh, barely caressing it even as it tortured him as well as her with the ghostly touch.

"Only way to stop me," his voice came out pained, breathless. His own unguarded satisfaction of touching her again, rising to the surface, rasping with every breath he took. "You're gonna have to wake and stop me."

_God, please don't let her stop me._

His fingers danced along the exposed thigh muscle, watching with fascination, as the muscles tensed, released and coiled again under his feather light touches, the strokes, the bare breath of a whisper skimming over her thigh - fluttering like wings over the bareness of her hip. A far different reaction, no less arousing, than when he claimed her the first time. Hard. Full on desire. This time; he was learning his way over her body... stoking a fire that had never burned out, even with the cold reality of deception. Even that; he began to understand. But her? Damn it. Ana Lucia remained the mystery. The paradox.

Ana murmured, undulated, beneath his adoration, lips parted slightly in a soft arousing moan.  
His hand idled in surprise, before he realized her legs had splayed slightly at his hand, knee slightly bent, an invitation, unconscious or not, to continue.

"You're dangerous, Ana Lucia. Very, very dangerous," he whispered against her neck. "But I'm gonna win this time.."  
Her eyes fluttered beneath her lids as she felt his warm lips move over her cherubic cheeks, her forehead. He placed delicate kisses against her closed eyelids, that stubborn jaw, every inch of her face. As heat returned to his kisses, he moved lower, the sculptured beauty of her shoulder, upper arm, down further till that sweet mouth left her all together.

"Come back to me, Rambina."

A new rain storm brewed between them, soaking their skins, drenched awareness. He was so sure of his touch. As if he knew what she wanted, knew what made her body and soul respond.

His left hand found its clever way beneath the sheet, across her stomach, feeling the muscles flutter, clench as the palm rested there. For a moment, a strange metamorphosis over took him. The unexpected thought of the flat planes of her belly, swelling with his child, brought him such pleasure that it caught him off guard.

Sawyers mouth left her again, reeling back with surprise at how primal that thought became. But it was not the only surprise he was in for. Resting back on his haunches, one hand still on her belly, the other clasping her thigh, and the sweet moisture of his kisses wet against her skin, Ana Lucia Cortez stared, unblinking and hard back at him.

"A--Ana--?!"

**SLLLAAAPPP!**

Rebounding slightly, Sawyer flinched backwards, eyes wide and his hand cradling the reddened side of his face. "What the hel--"  
There was a pregnant pause as they both digested the situation that they'd found themselves.

With her heart beating erratically, Ana struggled to make her mind work, or her throat that felt constricted. Finally Sawyer managed to sputter out a reply. "It's.. It's fine, Lucy! I'm taking care of you. You're okay.."

He was babbling, he knew it, but through it all the realization flooded through him. She's awake!!

In his joy, he failed to notice her lips hitch into a slow scowl, the arm he had kissed moments before, reaching up over his shoulder to thread through his long hair and pull him, forcefully, down to her angry face. He stiffened in surprise, but didn't resist.

She squashed down the look he gave her, for her trademark demand.

"W-what were you doin', pervert?"

Uh-oh.

He took a deep gasping breath only to force it out in a strangled cough. "Wakin' you up?" Sawyer reassured her, wanting nothing more than to take her into his arms. Her indignant fire and suspicion, made him keep his peace. At least till he could talk her down from the fight or flight kick she was currently on.

He may not have seen the first smack coming, but the second was in her eyes and Sawyers corded arms held her to the bed, as he shifted over her, hoping that his weight would discourage any other interest in throwing punches or kicks while a part of him, remained engorged with need.

"But you hit me again, and I'm not gonna sit - lie - here and take it. Got me?". Her look was typical 'f-you', but he ignored it best he could. His eyes, darker and sweeter than she remembered, glistened vivid sapphire that seemed to absorb the remaining light in the room, and blossom out towards her.

"Now do the impossible, Lucy, and shut the hell up." His next words were spoken firmly, with no room for her to argue. "Because I'm gonna kiss you.."

Even with her hand tangled in his hair, and growling like some hellcat, Sawyer Ford was amazed he got the last word, even more so, that he got to do what he'd promised and denied himself, since meeting her.

And James 'Sawyer' Ford pulled Ana Lucia Cortez into the kiss of a lifetime.

It was soft, gentle and deeply awakening at the same time, it was something more, for just a moment, before it was over.

Ana smiled wickedly against his mouth, as he pulled gently away. Sawyer blinked suspiciously at her. "What?"

"That was rubbish, man. I could be sleepin', and get better." For a moment, his eyes widen at her audacity, then narrow as Ana chuckles at some joke only she knows. This pies him off.

She wanted to insult his manhood, great. He owed her for the gun too.

"You wanna know what I was doin'? Fine, you damned woman.. You got it!"

He growled against the Latina and forced his way past Ana Lucias smirking mouth, smashing his lips against hers, kissing her deeply - hungrily. He let everything be said in the passion that was bared, raw and honest, as he kissed her.

His hands found their way to cradle her face, placing her where he needed her. Sawyer took advantage of her shock, the sudden desire, and thrust his wide and clever tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth. Reacquainting himself, moaning darkly, breath rushing out through his nose, as his mouth drank her in.

While the kiss became more fervent, he made her body respond unashamedly with desire, holding her captive. Holding her close. Anas hands didn't remain still for long, spurred on, she caressed his broad back. In response, he arched toward her, pushing her hips into the mattress with his own. He groaned as if in delicious agony, whimpering softly already fallen for her. A moment later, he did it again. And again.

Loosing himself in the primal cadence.

It was music to her ears. It was proof that she had power over him as well.

When he broke off the kiss, the both of them were sucking in hard gasping breaths. He was heavy against her, but a good weight that made her feel both protected and alive for the first time since she felt in years.

The world spun around them, but that was okay too, because they were clinging to each other.

"I know exactly what you were doin', Cowboy," she panted deeply, after a while, wickedly against that charming mouth of his. She wiggled her hips against his own, eliciting a growling appreciation from the enticing wouldbe Nurse Sawyer. Ana promised herself that she'd do some more 'reawakening him' of her own later on.

Sawyer felt a lick of fire deep in his belly as she grinned devilishly up at him. He'd been conned, he just knew it. But how?

Her eyes brightened, beneath dark lashes as she spoke. A responding confession of sorts.. a triumph of another.  
Right before she swooped upwards to capture her Cowboys lips in a crushing, claiming -this is what happened to Sleeping Beauty when the Prince kissed her awake-they didn't show to the kids- kiss.

" 'Cause, I've been awake for the last ten minutes."

**The End.**


End file.
